Nothing Special
by leavesofmirkwood
Summary: An Alternate Universe where, while on a routine hunting mission, Dean and Sam come across an unexpected surprise. Doesn't take place during any certain season; about mid-series. General fluffy story.
1. Chapter 1

Nothing Special

Chapter: 1

…..

Sam and Dean stood in a clearing in the woods as they stared down at the shape shifter they had just caught off a lonely stretch of highway in Minnesota. The shifter had been terrorizing a nearby town for the past couple of weeks; that is, until the Winchesters caught wind of it. After a high speed chase down the highway, the shape shifter had jumped ship and ran into the bordering woods, where Sam and Dean had followed suit until, running into a clearing in the forest, Dean had finally been able to get shot through the heart with a silver bullet.

Sam nudged the body with the toe of his boot.

"You think it's actually dead this time?"

Dean lifted the gun and shot the shifter in the head.

"Yep."

He pulled out a box of rock salt and tossed it to Sam.

"Now let's salt it, burn it, and get the hell out of Dodge."

Sam scoffed as he began pouring the salt on the body.

"What are you in such a hurry for?"

"No reason, just ready to get a move on."

Sam raised an eyebrow.

"Okay, okay! It's freakin' cold up here, dude! I'm wearing, like, six pairs of socks right now and I still can't feel my toes. We're finding out next job somewhere warm and sunny."

Sam laughed at this as Dean flicked open his lighter and dropped it on the body, setting it alight. They stood by, watching, ready to put the fire out once the body was sufficiently burned.

"Yeah, go ahead and laugh. Just because you don't ever get cold. Geez, you're like a friggin' moose," Dean muttered, putting his hands into his jacket pocket and staring into the fire.

Sam was still chuckling to himself, shaking his head, when he saw something move at the edge of the clearing. He became quiet and slowly crept towards where the movement had been. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Dean look towards where Sam's attention was directed and slowly draw the gun out of his back pocket.

As Sam got closer, he saw something totally unexpected; a wagging tail. He motioned for Dean to back away; his brother complying, but a questioning look on his face.

Then Sam looked back to where the tail had been and instead now saw two chocolate brown eyes staring up at him from the mud coated face of a dog.

Dean called out to him in a loud whisper,

"What is it?"

Sam ignored the question and knelt down a few feet from the canine. He put one hand out encouragingly and patted his knee with the other.

"You can come out here, doggy. We won't hurt you."

The dog's floppy ears went up at the sound of his voice, but it made no move to come forward.

"Come on, puppy. Come here." Sam tried whistling for it. The dog just tilted its head and stared questioningly at him.

Dean scoffed.

"A dog, Sam? Really? We don't need to be messing with a dog. It probably has fleas, or rabies, or peanut allergies or something."

Sam just shook his head at Dean and then turned back to the dog who was still staring at him.

"Hey, I bet you're hungry, aren't you?" The dog's tail wagged a few times before settling back down.

"Well, I think Dean has some beef jerky in the car. You like beef jerky?"

The dog stared expectantly at him.

"Okay, you wait here."

The dog wagged its tail and Sam slowly stood, turning away without making any sudden movements.

Dean again stood in his passive position over the fire, hands in his pockets, with an eyebrow raised at Sam.

"You do realize that it doesn't understand you, right?"

Sam just smirked at him before jogging up the short distance back to the highway where they had been hastily parked.

"I'll be right back."

Dean just slowly shook his head at Sam; the dog would probably be gone before he even got back. Then it suddenly occurred to Dean what Sam had said.

"Sam!"

There was a pause.

"What?" he heard his brother's voice through the trees, though he couldn't see him.

"One piece of jerky, you got that? That's the good stuff from Kentucky!"

If Sam replied, he couldn't hear it; though he could hear the opening and closing of the Impala's doors.

Dean sighed and looked over to where the dog was. It had walked out from behind the bushes it had been hiding in and now sat quietly in the clearing, looking inquisitively at Dean.

He stared back at it.

"What do you want?"

The dog just tilted its head and blinked its eyes.

"Psh. Yeah, whatever."

Dean looked back at the fire that was dying down, the body now nothing but some ashes. Fortunately, shifters tended to burn fast; one of the only positive aspects of their existence. Now he just had to bury the remains and they could be on their way. Damn, he should have told Sam to grab a shovel while he was up at the car.

Just then, Sam came jogging into the clearing, the bag of jerky in one hand and a shovel in another. He held out the shovel to Dean.

"Always thinking, Sammy."

Dean took the shovel and began digging a small but deep hole. Sam again squatted a few feet from the dog and held out a piece of the jerky, letting the smell of it waft over to the dog.

"Here you go, doggy. Some nice jerky. I don't really like it, but Dean says it's good. Though that's not really saying much." Sam muttered the last part under his breath, though still plenty audible.

Dean looked up from where he was digging.

"Hey!"

The dog stood up and warily walked over to Sam, cautiously taking the piece of jerky out of his extended hand. It then quickly and vey audibly chewed through the meat, wagging its tail and looking brightly up at Sam.

Sam smiled, stood, and held up another piece of jerky.

"Sit."

The dog cocked its head, still standing and looking up at Sam.

"Sit." Sam said again, making sure he was annunciating clearing. The dog continued to stand.

"Huh, I would have sworn you were domesticated."

Dean looked up at Sam.

"What would give you that idea?"

Sam gestured down to the dog.

"Well for one thing, it obviously doesn't know how to hunt for itself, it's underfed and hungry. And for another, it's hardly afraid of us at all."

The dog was still standing by Sam, looking intently at the jerky he held in his hand. Sam tossed the meat, and the dog caught it out of the air, swallowing it down before it had barely chewed through it.

Dean paused his digging and leaned on the shovel.

"Maybe it just doesn't speak English."

He meant it as a joke, but Sam's face brightened with the thought.

"Good idea! Okay, um… I took some Spanish in college; let's see." Sam thought back for a moment.

"Siéntate."

The dog stared at his hand, waiting for another piece of jerky, but still standing.

"Dang. Let's see, not Spanish, but… French, maybe? We are close to Canada." Sam looked at Dean for input.

Dean just shrugged and began shoveling the ashes into the freshly dug hole.

Sam looked back at the dog.

"Alright, I never took any French so this might be futile. Um…asa- um, asta-..."

"Assois-toi."

Sam looked up sharply at Dean.

"You know French?" he asked incredulously.

Dean again paused his shoveling.

"Some." He began to grin and looked over at Sam. "You see, I used to know this girl who-"

Sam held up a hand, silencing his brother before he could continue.

"I don't want to know."

He looked away, Dean still smiling to himself while he finished filling up the hole with dirt. Sam took out another piece of jerky and held it out to the dog.

"Assois-toi."

The dog immediately sat down, tail tapping the ground.

Sam smiled.

"It worked!"

He tossed the dog the jerky.

"Of course it worked," Dean said airily.

He hoisted the shovel over his shoulder and began turn towards the hill up to the Impala.

"All right, Sam. Time to go."

Sam looked up at him, looking ready to ask the question that Dean knew was coming.

"No. Definitely not."

Sam sighed, bending down to rub the dog's head goodbye. He began walking away, following Dean to the car. The dog started whining.

Sam looked back.

"I'm sorry, buddy. I can't take you with me."

The dog gave a short yip and then began following Sam up the hill, tail wagging.

Dean threw the shovel, gun, and rock salt into the hidden compartment of the trunk in the Impala and slammed the door closed, which revealed Sam petting the stray dog that seemed to have followed him up from the woods to the car.

Sam again looked up at Dean, the unasked question still in his eyes.

"No, Sam, we cannot keep it."

"Aw, come on Dean. We can't just abandon it out here in the cold, all alone. It's obviously a trained pet that doesn't know how to defend itself. If we leave it, it'll die."

"Dammit Sam; I've already got to deal with one set of puppy dog eyes; I don't need…"

Both the dog and Sam gazed up at him pleadingly.

Dean sighed.

"Fine. But do _not _let it mud on the seats. I will make _both_ of you walk."

Sam stood, smiling, and the dog gave a short, excited bark, seeming to have realized that the conversation had gone in its favor.

Dean trudged over to the driver's side of the car, sliding into his seat and slamming the door shut before looking over to see Sam sitting in the passenger seat, the dog sitting on his lap, looking around the car and panting excitedly.

Sam glanced over at Dean, looking like he was trying to hold back a smile.

"Well, we're ready over here."

Dean just rolled his eyes and started the car, praying to whatever higher power he could think of that the damn dog was at least house trained.


	2. Chapter 2

Dean pushed open the door to their recently acquired motel room, grunting as he hefted their duffel bags inside. He flipped on the lights, illuminating the room against the very late night/ very early morning darkness.

Sighing, he threw the bags on the bed closest to the door, immediately throwing himself next to them, burying his face into the pillow and closing his eyes.

Moments later, he heard the familiar sound of Sam walking into the room, followed by the more than unwelcome sound of the dog following him in. As Sam shut the door, Dean dragged his head off the pillow and glared at him.

"You're seriously keeping that dog?"

Sam ignored the Dean's accusing tone and bent down the pat the head of the creature in question.

"Dean, we found her _abandoned, starving, _and in the middle of _nowhere._ We can't just leave her out in the cold to die."

"Yeah, well, you think maybe it was left like that for a reason? Nothing with us is just an innocent puppy, Sam. It's probably bewitched… or a shape shifter… or it could be _possessed_! Who knows what the hell is wrong with it?"

Sam sighed.

"Dean, she's just a dog. There's nothing special or supernatural about her. Just a dog."

The last part sounded almost like a plea. Dean looked questioningly at Sam.

"Why the hell do you want to have a dog so bad anyway?"

Sam shrugged, focusing on scratching the dog behind its ears rather than looking at Dean.

"I just think maybe it'd be nice to save something for once without the supernatural being involved; just because we can."

Dean groaned internally. Sam was already attached to the damn dog which, by the way, was _probably_ going to kill them in their sleep. He had been hoping they could drop it off at the next animal shelter they came across, but it looked like Sam was intent on having a new companion.

Sam seemed to take Dean's silence for tolerance, which it wasn't, and stood up, heading towards the bathroom and motioning for the dog to follow.

"I'm going to go give the dog a bath, okay Dean?"

Dean gave a frustrated groan, his face falling back down into the pillow.

"Knock yourself out."

Sam closed the door behind himself, and Dean pushed his face further into the pillow.

…..

Several minutes later, Sam stood next to a now full bathtub and looked down at the dog that was looking up at him, tail wagging slightly.

"So are we going to do this the easy way, or the hard way?"

He crouched down and tried to splash the water around in the tub encouragingly. The still completely mud-covered dog looked at the water curiously, but made no move to get in.

"Come on; it's nice and warm!"

He tried giving her a nudge towards the tub, to which, in response, she sat on the floor and looked innocently at him.

"Alright, hard way it is." Sam grunted as he partially stood up, still bent over.

He reached over and picked up the dog, her slight frame and clearly underfed body feeling light in his arms. She went stiff as he lifted her up; starting to struggle once he had smoothly shifted her to be over the bath water.

Sam set her down and, expecting a struggled, started scrubbing the dirt off as quickly as possible before she could jump out. However, rather than struggling, she sat in what appeared to be shock; probably never having experienced a bath before.

As the tub water became more and more opaque, the characteristics of the dog became more and more discernible. She had long auburn fur, and was quite small; not only because she had obviously been living in the woods, but because she was still very young, not yet full-grown.

After a couple of minutes, the reality of her situation must have finally hit her, and the dog started whining, moving to get out of the tub. Sam, realizing that this was as clean as she was going to get for now, looked around frantically for a towel, trying to avoid the inevitable. But before he could, the dog jumped out of the tub and upon landing, began to shake herself, her long fur letting fly all the water it had collected.

"No, no, no-" But Sam, already wet from the bath process itself, was now even more so from the sprinkling; as was the entire bathroom.

He sighed.

"Thanks for that."

The dog wagged her tail, tongue lolling outside her mouth.

He belatedly grabbed the towel that was folded on the counter and wiped off his face before throwing it on her and briskly drying her off. The dog, now hyped up from her recent experience, was pacing up and down in the small bathroom, ready to leave.

Sam looked around the bathroom at the water splattered walls and mud filled tub, thinking to himself that he really should clean it up a little. But he'd been awake since before sunrise that morning (or was it yesterday morning?) and the long day was finally catching up to him.

Coming to a decision, he opened up the door and turned off the light as he walked out of the bathroom. Tomorrow.

He threw off his now distinctly wet-dog smelling shirt and climbed into his bed, looking over to see that Dean still hadn't moved from his face down spread eagle position on the other bed. The dog was staring over at him as if tempted to go hop up next to him, but she seemed to have the sense to know that wouldn't be a good idea.

"Come 're dog."

Sam quietly patted the bed for the dog to come, thinking to himself that he needed to come up with a name for her; 'dog' wasn't cutting it.

She turned and hopped up onto the foot of the bed, curling up into a tight ball, facing the door.

Sam moved to flip off the light switch near his bed when Dean's muffled voice stopped him.

"Did you at least check to make sure it's not possessed?"

Dean, still without moving his head, reached into the duffel bag closest to him, grabbed a small bottle and tossed it at Sam.

Sam caught the bottle out of the air, flipped the cap open and casually poured some on the dog, whose only reaction was to look at him accusingly before laying her head back down.

"Yep." Sam tossed the bottle back at Dean. "Nothing." He turned the light off, the room descending into darkness.

Dean grunted in reply and then there was quiet; all three occupants of the room attempting to sleep.

* * *

Dean partially awakened to the sound of Sam talking to someone. At first confused, thinking that something might be wrong, but then he recalled that Sam was probably just talking to the dog; because apparently they had one of those now. Dean relaxed, determined to try to get at least a few more minutes of shut eye when an extremely familiar deep and gravelly voice responded to Sam.

Dean opened his eyes to see Sam and the dog sitting on the floor in the middle of the room with surprise guest, Castiel. He too sat on the floor, squinting and staring intensely at the dog. The dog's tail tapped the ground, its tongue hanging out of its mouth as it returned Cas' gaze.

"I think she likes you, Cas."

Sam looked hard-pressed trying to contain a smile at the exchange.

Cas' eyes narrowed further at this, his scrutiny of the dog intensifying.

"How could she possibly 'like' me? She knows nothing about me."

Sam shrugged.

"I don't know; dogs just have good intuition like that. She liked me right away."

The explanation seemed to have in no way increased Castiel's understanding of the matter.

Sam shook his head.

"Why don't you try petting her?"

Castiel looked sharply at Sam, now truly looking confused.

"Pet?"

"Yeah, you know-" Sam rubbed the dog's head and scratched behind her flopping ears. "-pet. It shows affection."

"Sam, though I can tell that you are fond of her, I do not know if I have affection for your dog. We have only just encountered."

Sam rolled his eyes.

"It's not like its binding decision or anything, Cas. Just pat her on the head and tell her she's a good dog."

Cas reached out his hand and stiffly patted the dog's head while staring deeply into its eyes.

"You are a good dog."

Sam now looked like he was ready to burst out laughing, but he tried to keep a straight face for Cas' sake and put on an encouraging smile.

"Well…. good first try. You'll get the hang of it eventually."

Dean gave a short laugh at this, himself unable to contain is amusement at Cas' utter confusion regarding the dog.

Cas looked up sharply at Dean and stood abruptly.

"Dean! You're awake. I have an important mission for you and Sam to-"

Dean held up his hand, stopping Cas before he could get any further, and swung his legs over the side of the bed, standing up.

"Nope. No missions before I've had a shower and eaten something."

Cas let out his unfinished sentence as a sigh and sat back down on the floor with Sam and the dog.

Dean grabbed his duffel bag and started making his way to the bathroom, Sam continuing his conversation with Cas, trying to keep him occupied.

"So, do they not have pets up in heaven?"

"They aren't encouraged in the garrison." He paused. "…Though I do know of a higher angel that kept a seven headed dragon on occasion."

Dean could tell by Sam's stunned silence that he had not seen that coming.

Dean flipped on the bathroom light, closing the door behind himself.

…..

"SAM!"

Sam suddenly remembered that with everything he had done that morning; go shopping for a collar and some dog food, take the dog for a walk, and talk with Cas, cleaning the bathroom had slipped his mind.

He quickly looked over at Cas.

"Have you ever played fetch?"

Cas frowned.

"Play _what_?"

"That's what I thought. Let's go."

He hurriedly grabbed the dog and a makeshift ball and rushed outside the hotel, Cas following shortly behind.

Dean stormed out of the bathroom just as the door shut behind them. He sighed, turning back to go clean up the mud coated bath tub before he could actually get clean himself.

* * *

Dean threw the last of their junk into the backseat of the car, giving the small bag of dog food that now occupied the back a distasteful look. He didn't understand Sam's sudden determination to have a dog; it was just going to be an unnecessary hassle in their already hassle filled life. He sighed, slamming the trunk closed, and looked up to see Sam standing next to Cas at the end of the motel parking lot and holding what looked suspiciously like a wadded ball of socks.

Sam held out the makeshift ball towards Cas.

"You want to give it a whirl?"

Cas frowned, gingerly taking the socks out of Sam's hand.

"So, I am supposed to… throw it?"

Sam nodded encouragingly.

"As far as you can."

"….so that she can bring it back."

Sam nodded.

"Yep."

"….so that I can throw it again."

Sam grinned.

"That's how fetch works."

Cas' frowned deeper.

"That seems highly illogical."

Sam shrugged.

"Maybe for you, but it's fun for the dog." He gestured over to her, the canine staring intently at the ball in Cas' hand, tail wagging in the air.

Cas sighed, his face looking resigned to the fact that had no idea why he was about to do what he was about do to, but was going to do it anyway.

"Alright."

Cas drew back his arm then flung the ball into the air.

It flew high into the sky and kept flying. The dog began chasing but stopped once the wad of socks disappeared into the distance.

Sam had his hand up, shielding his eyes from the sun has he watched the path of the ball.

"Holy…. Crap. How far did you throw it?"

Cas shrugged.

"I imagine it's about two states over at this point."

"Damn."

At the other end of the parking lot, Dean revved the engine of the Impala. He stuck his head out the window.

"Yo, Hercules, Phil- let's get a move on! Burnin' daylight over here!" He retreated back into the car.

Dean sat tapping the steering wheel, watching as Sam and Cas walked over to the car, the dog circling them as they went; Sam was laughing at something that Cas said, probably something that he hadn't intended to be humorous. Just in the past few hours that Sam had had the dog, he'd seemed a little…. Less sad. Happier, even. He still thought it was a stupid ass idea to keep the dog and still hoped they would eventually get rid of it, but it did seem to have _one_ redeeming quality.

Cas appeared in the backseat, while Sam slid into the passenger side, the dog hopping onto his lap.

Dean shifted the car into drive and slid out of the parking lot.

"Hey Dean, you got any good ideas for a name for the dog? I was thinking that we should decide on a name soon."

Dean rolled his eyes, revving the engine, and began speeding down the highway.

"Awesome."


End file.
